After work I dropped off three things to the new landlord's wife (not taller than me, still tall though):
- Georgia's lease, signed, initialed, and so on.
- A little one-sheet of information, also Georgia's. (I had already handed in these 2 earlier in the week.)
- The third was a book, it's for the shorter of my two landlords, it looks like this:
Never in the 10 years when I was smoking did I every really consider myself a smoker...it was funny, I smoked more than anyone I knew but somehow in my mind it was all temporary. Let's assume it was an even 10 years to the day, that means it was 120 months - I probably smoked for 80 of them, or about 65% of the time. At first I would quit for like 6/12 months, or 7, or 4, who the fuck really knows...I sure don't. Towards the end it was more permanent.
Before moving to LA I had quit for several months, somewhere about 4 minutes into my drive across country I started back up again....it stuck for a while, not even a year. Then I got my sales job, sitting in my car for 40-70 hours a week...cigarettes quickly followed. There was a 4-6 month break, another 3 month break, and about 2 more months...each time more miserable than the last.
I would go on the patch most of the time but I've been hypnotized, cold turkey, etc. All of them eventually failed. This book, however, has left me with zero desire to smoke.
Here is a play by play of how I remember quitting, all the way back 2 months ago:
- Quit for a week. Some small amount of stress popped up, I flew off the handle, started smoking again.
- I heard about the book a few times in the same week. I wasn't asking about it, or about quitting. I didn't care. Georgia is cool and didn't really care all that much if I was smoking or if I wasn't.
- Bought the book in Glendale.
- Had zero desire to quit, but I started reading it. Followed it to the T (tea? tee?)
- Smoked. Read. Smoked. Read.
- Got to the last page with a cigarette behind my ear, the last of the pack. Camel Turkish Silver, just hanging out, in the on-deck circle.
- Finished the last words, walked outside feeling no different at all.
- Smoked the cigarette to the bitter/harsh end.
- Did a little; "I'm never going to smoke again," dance.
- Went inside, washed up, went to bed.
Since that day I have not smoked a single drag. I have wanted one a few different times, but never enough to even consider giving in and actually smoking one. The urge comes and goes quicker than I could have ever imagined.
The thing is, it was easy. Throughout the book, Carr tells you, it's going to be easy, you aren't going to gain weight, etc. I had a hard time believing him; not anymore.
I can say, with the utmost confidence that I will never smoke another cigarette again for the rest of my life. You should say the same. If you only smoke a few when you drink, you're a smoker - wise up. If you smoke a pack a day, you're a smoker - buy the book.
This blog will rarely be used as a blatant ad but this book honestly changed my life and I felt a swarm of pride passing it off to Landlord-Short today, so I wanted to have that flash again with this post.